His Curious Imp: The Rakes of Mayfair Book 4

by Barron, Melinda

  She grabbed the railing of the Thames and looked into the waters. They were blurred from her tears.

  “How is it that I manage to find bastards with every turn?” The words were loud and a couple standing not far away stared at her and then walked away.

  “Fergus is not a bastard.” Charlotte’s voice was soft as she laid her hand on Gabby’s shoulder. “Truthfully, he is a good man. I don’t know about what happened today, but I’m sure he has a reason for it.”

  Gabby turned to her, and tried to still her tears again. She could see Dalton standing a respectful distance away.

  “How could he, Charlotte? How could he make love with me and then go to her?” Gabby’s insides ached as if someone had reached into her chest and pulled her heart out. In a way she supposed that’s really what he had done.

  “I don’t know, Gabby, but you need to let him tell you why. Don’t assume anything. Talk to him.”

  Gabby sniffed and then laughed. “On top of that, I’ve lost my rooms because of him. I have nowhere to go.”

  “Nonsense. You’ll come with us. And with time you’ll be back with Fergus. He loves you. And you love him.”

  “He’s only known me less than a week.” Gabby didn’t deny the last sentence because she knew that it was true. She wasn’t sure she was entirely in love with him, but she was sure the feelings were forming. And that made his betrayal hurt all the more.

  Gabby sniffled. “How did you know where to find me?”

  “I remember your fascination with water when we were younger.”

  Gabby laughed as Charlotte pulled her in for a hug. Then she stared to cry again, burying her head in Charlotte’s shoulder. Seconds later, she felt the comforting pat of Dalton’s hand on her hair.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “Something warm to drink and eat will make you feel better, Gabby.”

  She nodded and they walked toward the Essexes’ carriage, Gabby wedged in between them as her tears continued to flow. She wasn’t sure what food and water would do for her, but she was willing to give it a try.

  But then she remembered the conversation she’d overheard. Fergus would be there soon, and so would the other two men they’d asked to go search McNutt’s rooms before Wilcox and his men made it there. Truthfully, she wanted to go there, she wanted to be in on the case.

  Which meant, she knew, that she needed to hold back on her feelings for Fergus and listen to what the two men said.

  This could be, she knew, the biggest thing she could ever write about. Because, heaven knew, she was ready to reject Fergus’ idea of her writing erotic stories. That would remind her of him too much, and she didn’t want that to happen.

  She would stick to non-fictional things, like McNutt’s murder. She was sure she could write it perfectly, and The Times would buy it, and they would hire her.

  McNutt might well lead her way into a real job.

  He just had to die to do it.

  Chapter 8

  Fergus was pacing the Essexes’ drawing room when they arrived. Gabby thought he looked much like a caged animal. He stopped and glared at the three of them, his gaze softening when he saw her. She didn’t smile back. She was still too angry. Or was it anger mixed with confusion? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was she wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to him just yet.

  “What the hell took you so long?” he asked. “I’ve been worried, very worried.”

  He moved toward Gabby, as if he were about to put his arms around her. She moved so there was a chair between them.

  “Gabriella. Darling, please don’t cry. I…”

  “Crying? I’m not crying,” she said, using the present tense instead of the past. But since he’d mentioned crying it was obvious he’d noticed. She put her hands on her face and touched right under her eyes. They felt puffy.

  “I don’t want your excuses,” she said.

  Before she could continue, two men she didn’t know came into the room.

  “We’ve been raiding your larder, Essex,” said the younger of the two. “Your cook should be very angry in the morning.”

  “Nonsense, that’s what food is for,” Charlotte said. “Gabby, this is Lord Beaton and this is Lord Barton. We call them the B Lords. But don’t mistake them for each other although both are notorious rakes.”

  Rakes. There was that word again, being used in association with men in Fergus’ circle. She needed to ask some questions, but now was not the time.

  “I’ll go rouse the cook,” Charlotte said as she left the room.

  The B Lords bowed in her direction and then sat down. Gabby sat down on the couch opposite them.

  “What did you find out?” Essex said. He pointed to the couch where Gabby sat. Fergus sat next to her and she knew that it would look childish if she stood and walked away so she stayed where she was. The heat from his body was wonderful. Then she remembered that he’d left her that morning for another woman and she tried to scoot away.

  “The last time anyone at the boarding house saw McNutt was yesterday afternoon,” Barton said. “The man directly across from him said he was, what was the word he used Beaton, giddy? Of course, the neighbor had been asleep and he wasn’t happy we woke him up. At first, he refused to answer our questions. Then he said that McNutt was, how did he put it? Oh yes, a fucking bastard of a neighbor. He was surprised to see McNutt laughing.”

  “McNutt was a jerk,” Gabby answered. “I’m not surprised his attitude went toward his neighbors as well as his co-workers.”

  Beaton laughed. “Indeed. If you can imagine a grown man being giddy. He also said that McNutt’s face was swollen and bloody, as if someone had taken their fists to him.”

  Fergus groaned and both men raised their eyebrows. Barton leaned toward. “Did he deserve it, McIntyre? If so, good show.”

  “Yes, Beaton, he deserved it.”

  “What would have made him giddy?” Fergus asked. “If someone had just beaten me I wouldn’t be happy about it.”

  He tried to take Gabby’s hand and she pulled it from him.

  “A big story,” she said, her voice still wobbly. “Only the idea of a big story would make him happy.”

  “A big story or lots of money,” Fergus said. “Money that he would get from not writing a story, perhaps?”

  “Food will be here momentarily,” Charlotte said as she came back in the room. “What have I missed?”

  Dalton filled her in as the wheels in Gabby’s brain worked overtime.

  “What if he found out what we did, Fergus?” She turned to him and felt her breath catch as she stared at his handsome face. There was sorrow in his eyes and she knew that it came from the pain she felt. She shook off the feelings. They needed to center on McNutt’s death, and what it meant right now.

  “The house on Blimpton Road?”

  “Yes,” Gabby said.

  “He sounds just squirrelly enough that he would try a spot of blackmail against the owner,” Dalton said.

  “And get himself killed in the process,” Fergus said.

  “Blimpton Road?” Beaton and Barton exchanged glances. Fergus filled them in on the details as the cook and a maid carried in trays of food and drink.

  When they were gone, Fergus filled a plate and handed it to Gabby. She took it but didn’t look at his eyes. Bastard. Bastard. Bastard. She repeated the mantra over and over. He was a bastard just like all men.

  They ate and discussed a plan. It was decided that Beaton and Barton would try and find out where the contents of the house had been moved.

  And Dalton would enlist Ellington and Buxton to recreate McNutt’s last day and see what he’d found out to make him so happy.

  “I have a morning meeting with Wilcox,” Fergus said, and Gabby’s stomach tightened.

  “He thinks you killed him?” It was a question, but truthfully she knew that was the truth. Wilcox had his sights set on Fergus. Hopefully, they could prove him wrong and figure out who had killed McNutt.

  “I swear to you all that I had noth
ing to do with this man’s death,” Fergus said. “I was angry with him for the way he treated Gabriella, true, but I did not kill him.”

  “You don’t have to prove it to us,” Dalton said. “We know you better than that.”

  The other people in the room all voiced similar opinions, except for Gabby. She waited a beat, and then two, before she said, “You are not a murderer.”

  “Thank you all,” Fergus said. “But we’re going to have to work to see if we can figure out the truth about what happened.” He stood and said, “I’m going home.”

  He didn’t look at her, but Gabby knew that he wanted to. She struggled with the decision of whether to stay with him, or stay here at Charlotte’s house. If she left with him they could talk. If she stayed here she would brood, and possibly make the wrong decision without all the facts.

  “I’ll go with you.” Gabby let out a deep breath. “He’s coming to your house. If my calculations are right that gives us about seven hours.”

  Fergus offered his hand. Gabby second-guessed her decision. She should stay here and go to him in the morning.

  “If I go with you we will talk, and you will tell me everything,” she said. “You will be truthful. Do I make myself clear?”

  “You do,” Fergus said.

  She looked around the room. The other occupants were silent, but the looks on their faces were priceless, as if they wanted to laugh at the way she was demanding information from him. She wanted to hear everything, no matter how much it hurt.

  She stood but ignored his outstretched hand.

  “Very well. Charlotte, I shall see you tomorrow. Gentlemen, thank you for your assistance.”

  Then she left the room without another word and walked to Fergus’ carriage where a footman helped her inside. Fergus joined her moments later.

  They were barely away from the house when Fergus growled. “Take us around the park until I say otherwise.”

  His answer was a grunt and he turned to Gabby.

  “I’m sorry I hurt you, Gabriella.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “Was I so lacking in my skills that you had to go to another woman while I was in your bed?”

  He was quiet for a moment and then he said, “The Duchess is the woman I told you about in the park yesterday. I have been in her bed, yes, but it was eight years ago. And she is still my friend. I wanted to ask her a woman’s opinion. I couldn’t go to Charlotte because she is your friend.”

  “An opinion about what?” Gabby asked. “Did you want to know how you could leave me quickly and clearly?”

  “About how I could make a very independent woman my wife,” he said. There was an edge to his voice that she’d never heard before. “How I would go about asking you in such a way that you were sure to say yes.”

  “Fergus. Do you mean it?”

  “Yes. I watched you sleep last night and realized that in a few short days I’d come to love you. Love your fire and your temper. And your adventurous spirit. Love your beautiful breasts and sweet quim.”

  He wiped tears from her cheeks. She knew he was telling her the truth. She could feel it in her bones.

  “Of course it is that fire that caused you to run without hearing the real reason for my visit to her,” he said. “Your independence can cause problems, too. You need to learn to wait and listen, Gabby. One day, your hasty decisions will get you into trouble.”

  She knew that was true, but she didn’t want him to know she agreed.

  “I’ve made it just fine on my own,” she said. As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew they weren’t true. She was unemployed and living in a rooming house. Or at least she had been.

  Fergus knocked on the roof and ordered the driver to take them home. He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

  “Don’t ever run from me again, Gabby. Do you understand?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you forgive me for upsetting you?” He kissed the top of her head again.

  “I suppose so.” She kept her gaze trained on the other side of the carriage. She wasn’t sure she could look him in the eye yet. “You could have told me, though.”

  “I didn’t expect for you to find out,” he said. “I wanted it to be a surprise. Besides, I had one more errand I had to run that I didn’t tell Wilcox about.”

  This time she pushed away and turned her gaze on his. “Am I going to like this?”

  “I hope so.” He smiled at her seductively and pulled a box from his pocket.

  Gabby opened the box to find a large sapphire ring nestled inside.

  “It was my grandmother’s,” he said. “My brother had it in his possession.”

  “Your twin?” she asked.

  “Yes, that one.” He laughed. “He and I had a little fight about who could get the ring. Since he’s nowhere near finding a woman to love I told him it was mine. He gave it to me, reluctantly.”

  He kissed her head again. She wanted to tell him to stop missing her mouth, but she stayed silent.

  “Grandmother was an adventurous sort, just like you. I understand she took my grandfather on a merry chase before she agreed to marry him.”

  “I won’t take you on a chase, Fergus.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he said. “Something tells me you will, once again.”

  “Are you going to fuck me tonight?” she asked.

  “No.”

  Her stomach dropped and she licked her lips.

  “We’re going to lie in bed and hold each other,” he said. “Right now, we need to bond, which means closeness that doesn’t include sex. I want you to fall asleep in my arms and wake up in them, too.

  She settled her head on his chest. She’d found a man who wasn’t a bastard. How in the world had she done that?

  * * *

  Gabby examined the headline that screamed, “Curse of the Mummy” in The Sentinel. The Times wasn’t any better. Its headline read “Mummy curse responsible for death?”

  Of course the stories showed the man in question, McNutt, had been murdered by a human, not killed by a curse. A curse couldn’t wield a knife. Gabby set the newspaper down and then plopped down on the divan. She felt as if she were at home, a feeling that she loved.

  It had been wonderful to sleep in his arms, to hear his even breathing as she snuggled close to him. She looked at the beautiful sapphire ring on her finger. Was she really going to be married? She never thought that would happen, much less to a lord.

  She laughed to herself and then the smile disappeared as the door opened and Fergus walked in with Inspector Wilcox and a constable.

  The two officers greeted her and accepted a cup of tea.

  “I would rather do this without Miss Saunders present,” Wilcox said.

  Fergus sat down next to her and shook his head. “Miss Saunders is my fiancée. Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of her.”

  Wilcox looked surprised and then he nodded at the constable, who opened a notebook and prepared to take notes.

  “If that is the case, I understand,” he said. “But I would appreciate it if you didn’t check each other for answers. Please keep your gazes on me, and don’t touch.”

  Gabby thought he was being a bit of an ass, but she kept her mouth shut.

  “Now,” Wilcox said. “Scotland Yard medical officers tell me Mr. McNutt died around one yesterday afternoon. The Duchess tells me you left her house at noon. Where were you at one, Lord McIntyre?”

  “I was at Miss Saunders’ rooms, verifying her rental fees were paid and cleaning out her rooms. We will soon be married, as I said, and she will be living with me from now on.”

  Gabby could tell Wilcox disapproved of the situation by the look on his face. But she didn’t care. She didn’t care what anyone thought. Now that she knew Fergus wanted her as more than a mistress she couldn’t care less about appearances.

  “And where are your rooms, Miss Saunders?”

  “They were on Marsh Lane.
My landlady’s name is, was, Mrs. Titus,” Gabby said.

  The constable made a note and Wilcox took a sip of his tea.

  “And after that, Lord McIntyre?”

  “I made arrangements to have Gabby’s things delivered here and then I went to my family home to visit with my brother,” he said.

  “About?”

  “We had a family matter to discuss,” he said. “I was at the house until around five, and then I came here. We left for the museum around seven-thirty.”

  “Well, you seem to have it all covered,” Wilcox said. “Did you leave your brother’s house at any time?”

  “I did not.”

  “Lord McIntyre, did you kill John McNutt?”

  “I did not.”

  “But you fought with him the day before he died. You beat him so badly that his face was turning black and blue.”

  “He insulted Miss Saunders.”

  “Yes, so I heard. His co-workers were more than happy to recreate the fight for me. Going so far as to tell me that you threatened to kill him.”

  Gabby ignored Wilcox’s previous command and looked at Fergus. His face was a blank.

  “I didn’t threaten to kill him.”

  Wilcox looked at the constable who flipped through his notes and said, “Your exact words were ‘I will beat you until there is no breath left in your miserable little body’.”

  “I said beat, not stab.”

  Wilcox’s lips curled into a supercilious smile.

  “Just the same it’s interesting to me that you threaten to kill him and he ends up dead.”

  “My friend Robert Montgomery tells me that the lid of the sarcophagus is very heavy. How could I remove it, put the body in and close it back up by myself?”

  Wilcox snorted. “I’ve asked myself that very question. And as much as my superiors want to believe that you are guilty I’m afraid the evidence doesn’t support the thought.”

  Gabby felt awash with relief.

  “I think the body was put in there sometime during the night. Mr. Montgomery tells me that the crew worked on the exhibit until two a.m. and returned to work at seven the next morning. In those five hours someone put McNutt’s body in the coffin.”